


220 - Platonic Little Mini Fic

by storiesaboutvan



Category: Catfish and the Bottlemen (Band)
Genre: Other, Reader-Insert, platonic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-12
Updated: 2019-01-12
Packaged: 2019-10-08 17:59:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17391032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/storiesaboutvan/pseuds/storiesaboutvan
Summary: Filling the prompt “a fic where you are the lead singer of the opening band for catfish and you an van take smoke breaks in private together and really enjoy each other’s company? it doesn’t have to end with them in a romantic btw”





	220 - Platonic Little Mini Fic

It was getting harder and harder to find places to sneak away to. Most venues were smoke-free spaces, and in some of the countries you'd tour, even the outdoor areas of pubs and clubs were void of tobacco and ashtrays. 

After sound check, before anyone could pin you down for planning or interviews, you ran across the road to the four-story carpark. You took the elevator to the roof of the building, and when the thick metal doors parted, you hesitated.

Van, the singer of the band you were opening for, was already up there. Like you, he'd been dying for a smoke. You stepped out into the daylight and Van turned as the elevator made a heavy sound when the doors closed. He smiled and waved for you to join him. At his side, leaning against the high chain linked fence, you lit a cigarette and felt the wave of calm.

"Great minds, huh?" he asked quietly, looking out over the familiar city. You nodded, then moved to sit on the hard concrete ground, legs crossed. Van watched you sit, then copied your movement.

The comfortable silence was there from the start, despite having only really spoken to him a couple of times. The first was all introductions and thank yous. The rest were in passing between sound checks and after shows, of which they'd only been three at that point. Somehow though, there was an implicit understanding that you didn't need to fill the space with effortful small talk. The sounds of the city and your own thoughts were enough company.

You sat on the roof of the carpark for almost half an hour without saying much. Van's phone rang and he was called back.

"Yeah, should head back too," you said and followed him into the elevator and across the road.

As you parted ways, he gave you a gentle look and said, "See you next time?"

…

The next night, you watched Van and his band from side of stage. They finished and Van climbed down from the three stories of amps that he'd scaled mid-song. A final wave to the crowd and they were off stage. Everyone walked down the narrow corridor backstage and when Van skipped the green room door and turned to walked backwards, you glanced over at him. He flicked his head in an invitation for you to follow him. Quietly, you did.

Was he following his smoker's intuition or did he know his way around the venue? He was navigating it like an expert, and when you followed him up a dusty staircase hidden behind a door in a store room, you chuckled a little bit to yourself. Van looked back and grinned. At the top of the stairs was a second door that led to the roof.

It was by no means a rooftop deck. It was just a way to let people up there to check for leaks and clean skylights. No chairs. No fairy lights. The building was old, and the ledge of the roof was made of huge thick stone. You sat side by side with Van on it. You were cross-legged, a little afraid to hang your legs over the side in case a guest of wind threw you off. Van seemed fearless in that regard.

"Good show," you said as you pulled away after Van lit your cigarette with his.

"Yeah, was class that one. They're getting better and better,"

"You'll take over the world soon,"

"That's the plan," he replied with a grin.

It wasn't a full conversation, but it was more than your first secret smoke break. You'd always been okay with silence, always revelled in that level of friendship that afforded comfortable quiet. It was more natural to sit next to Van and think and watch the world go by than it was to talk. You wondered if maybe it was that you had nothing in common, but the thought lasted only a second in your head before it was devoured by the realisation it was more likely the case that you had everything in common.

…

Scrolling through your Instagram feed at almost three in the morning, you listened to the snoring of your drummer in the next bed over. The hotel room was warm and comfy. Your body was exhausted. And yet, you just couldn't fucking sleep. You liked seven more posts before you got a direct message from Van asking why you were still up. He'd seen your activity, seen you were awake. Can't sleep, you wrote. Meet on level 4, he replied.

Dressed in a hoodie and pyjama pants, you stepped out of the elevator. You waited only a minute on level four before Van exited one of the rooms.

"Hey," he said quietly and pulled you into a hug. He was in a hoodie too, but the same jeans he was wearing when you'd seen him last.

"What are we doing?" you asked as you followed him into the elevator and watched him press the button for the top floor.

"Got something to help you sleep."

Vague. But, you trusted him.

The top floor was the rooftop hotel swimming pool. The rippled surface of the water reflected the full moon. Sitting next to each other on an outdoor couch, you watched Van roll a joint. He lit it but gave you first toke.

You were quiet for a while, then became giggly as Van tried to blow smoke rings. You were no better, but had the good sense to YouTube some tutorials. You both watched them intently yet still failed to learn over the course of the three hours you sat up there. Mostly, rather than trying to actually learn, you drifted in and out of sleep, leaning your head against Van's shoulder. He did the same, shuffling only slightly and only in ways that wouldn't disturb you.

The sun rose and someone dived into the pool, waking you and Van from your leaf induced sleep.

In the elevator back down you grinned at each other from opposite corners. Van got out on level four, leaving you with a hug. You rode two more floors down and crawled into your bed, hoping to God you'd not have to do anything until much later in the day.

...

The bus finally came to a stop after five straight hours of driving. You jumped from it and bolted straight to the toilets. It felt good to pee in a space bigger than a cupboard; you’d never get used to the bus. When you exited, waiting outside for you was Van.

"Smoke?" he asked.

"Yeah, let me just-"

"Alright done," he interrupted, holding out a plastic bag. You took it and looked inside. It was like he'd been able to read the shopping list in your mind. The snacks you'd buy yourself. The smokes and lighters and everything.

"Am I that predictable?"

"Nah. I just listen when people talk, you know? And am observant or whatever."

You nodded and followed him to where people were eating truck stop junk food at outdoor table settings. You watched the rest of your band come and go from the bus, and the rest of Van's from his. They were stocking up and talking to each other, sharing food and stories. Nobody seemed surprised that you and Van had wandered off together.

You'd noticed that Van never bought cigarettes. He seemed to have a stockpile of the worst brand that the U.K. could offer. Did he bring them with him whenever he left the country? When he'd offer you one, you never hesitated, but you spent a great deal of time wondering about them.

"Question,"

"Yeah," he replied, tapping ash onto the gravel below.

"Your smokes…?"

It was all you needed to say. He grinned and nodded, then looked at you. 

"Ah, it's a bit cheesy, but… they're a reminder, you know? Not to get too big for my boots. These used to be all I could afford," he explained, looking at the carton in his hand with fondness. "Could smoke whatever I want now, but I don't wanna get all egotistical. Don’t wanna waste my money on stuff just 'cause. So, I smoke these. Save the money for my kid's education. Save myself from becoming a proper twat. You know?"

"Huh," was all you could say. It was a far more interesting and beautiful reason than you had anticipated.

When everyone was called back to the buses, the bands and crews got all mixed up and boarded whatever bus they wanted. You spent the rest of the trip with Van and Larry, watching movies and napping in their back of the bus room.

…

It was dead quiet as you walked out onto the stage. Van was sitting on the edge of it. You could see the smoke trail rising up. As you approached, the colourful greens, blues and reds of the lights being tested lit his skin up in rainbows. Sitting down next to him, you sighed.

"You'll get in trouble if they catch you smokin' in here," you said.

"Yeah. Nobody's here though."

You squinted across the empty venue. Despite the lights being on, nobody was controlling them. It wasn't a test run for the night's show then. Van saw the confusion on your face.

"I turned them on,"

"Why?"

"Dunno. Like the colour," he replied with a shrug, then handed his cigarette over to you. You glanced around at the entrances to the room. Van was the frontman of the headlining act. He was the reason everyone was on tour. He could get away with murder. You, on the other hand, were still on your best behaviour. Van sniggered at your caginess. "Wouldn't have pegged you for a goodie two shoes,"

"Shut up. Am not," you replied in the same way you would have if someone had said that to you at age eight.

You shared the smoke and watched the colours keep cycling through their predetermined program. You liked Van under the green lights, and he said red was your colour.

…

"Gonna leave without saying goodbye?" you asked, appearing from around a corner and finding Van sitting on the curb next to his suitcase and backpack.

"No! I came lookin' for you! Told them-" he stopped when you started to laugh.

"I know Van. I was told. Hence, I am here. So, you're not staying for the after party?"

"Nah. Would love to, but some family stuff I need to get back for."

You nodded as you took a seat next to him. Van pulled out his box of cigarettes and made a 'huh' sound of interest as he discovered there were only two left. He put both between his lips and lit them, then handed you one. Head resting on his shoulder, you watched your smoke and his twirl together and out into the night-time sky.

"Been a real good run of shows," Van said.

"Yeah. It's been amazing. Probably the best time of my life,"

"It's just gonna get better for you guys. You're dead good,"

"Thanks. I think so too."

Quiet again, your cigarettes burnt down to nothing. Van put the butts in the empty box and crushed it between his palms. You held your hand out for it.

"I'll put it in a bin after," you explained.

As he watched you put the box in your pocket, he spoke again. "I've really liked hanging with you, Y/N. The little smoke breaks and stuff. Think it's helped me stay calmer than usual. You've been good for me,"

"I've liked them too. I like the way you say 'little' as well. No Ts. Adorable," you replied. He grinned. "So, we stay friends then?"

"Yeah. Yeah, definitely. You lot are touring the U.K. next, yeah? We've got some time off, so I'll come out and show you around,"

"Sounds good."

The headlights of Van's cab flashed across you both, and you looked away from each other and to the yellow car. Van stood and helped you off the ground with a hand out, then you watched him put his bags in the boot of the car. He stood in front of you.

"I'll see you real soon, Y/N,"

"Yep. Soon."

You hugged each other tightly, and as the cab pulled away, you took a step backwards. You watched it turn a corner and disappear out of the city, on its way to the airport.


End file.
